


The Rough Draft

by Hock_hug



Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [36]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: But kinda sappy, Future Fic, M/M, not the happiest, post-retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/pseuds/Hock_hug
Summary: Nicke misses Alex more than he lets on
Relationships: Nicklas Backstrom/Alexander Ovechkin
Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1122324
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	The Rough Draft

_ Dear Alexander, _

That’s how every letter started. Nicke had that part down, he knew how to write that, but the next parts always tore him apart. How much should he write? How much should he put on paper, how much should he keep to himself to think over at night while he tries to fall asleep? Eventually, he had to write the rest of the letters, so he did. He kept most of his thoughts and feelings close to his chest every time. He’d see Alex soon enough, and if his heart wasn’t balancing on the weight of his words by then, he’d tell him the truth. He doubted that anything like that would ever happen, he was to emotionally invested at this point, but it couldn’t hurt to think about. Soon enough, he’d get to the closing and he’d pause again. “Yours truly” was too honest, “Sincerely” too much of a lie. “With love” was past out of the question, if he couldn’t tell the truth in the body of his letters he sure as hell couldn’t say it in his closing. He always ended up just signing his name, no closer at all, and he’d send the letter before he thought about it too much and changed his mind. 

Alex always wrote back, and Nicke’s heart stuttered every time he pulled a letter out of his mailbox. Every time, Alex would make fun of Nicke for not texting or calling, and then he’d ask when Nicke would come to Russia to visit. Nicke would scoff and smile, laugh and maybe tear up just a little bit. He’d remember how well he and Alex played together, he’d recall all of the good times and all of the bad ones, too, and he’d pull out another piece of paper.

He was never going to go to Russia, and Alex would never come to Sweden to see him. They would play this game until neither of them could write anymore and that would be it. They had retired years apart from each other. Alex retired first, his body breaking down too much for him to keep up. Nicke kept playing, but it felt off, and soon enough he wasn’t performing well enough to keep going, so he retired too. That’s when Alex sent the first letter, because he always starts it. No matter what happened, Alex could always take the blame for it. It was short and sweet, and Nicke was more endeared than he should’ve been, so he sent another letter, and another, and they just never stopped. Nicke sent off letter after letter, and every time he sat down with his pen (“You have to write letters in pen,” he had written to Alex once. “The pencil smudges too much.”) he promised himself that he’d tell Alex the truth, how he felt since his draft day, how hard he had fallen for Alex, but he never could. 

_ Dear Alexander, _

Nicke wanted to say “I miss you”, he wanted to say “I’ll come the next time you ask”, he wanted to say “I never stopped loving you”, but he didn’t.

_ I hope you’re doing well.  _

It was as close as he was going to get, he thought. He asked about Russia, as if he didn’t already know. He asked about Alex’s family, his dogs, his life, and he answered whatever questions Alex asked him without giving too much away. He’d end up throwing at least three letters in the trash each time, because he always managed to get too carried away, to give away too much. It wasn’t on accident, though. It felt nice to finally put the words on paper and imagine sending the letter, and he’d lose himself imagining Alex’s reactions. He imagined that Alex would be delighted, or just happy, and that he’d write the same thing back or even fly out to Sweden and say it out loud when Nicke met him at the door. Only in the first draft, though.

In the first draft, he always told the truth.

In the rough draft, he loved him.


End file.
